


private lessons

by xmjcx



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Amateur boxing, F/F, F/M, Kristanna, Personal Trainers, Sexual Tension, Smut, Training, background elsamaren, grumpy kristoff turns soft, self-defence classes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:08:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23559634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xmjcx/pseuds/xmjcx
Summary: Signing up to a women's self-defence class wasn't supposed to be this complicated.
Relationships: Anna/Kristoff (Disney), Background Elsa/Honeymaren - Relationship
Comments: 99
Kudos: 149





	1. Chapter 1

Anna sighs as she squints over towards the gym, her forearms resting on top of the steering wheel as her shoulders sag. 

_This is stupid._

She’s not really a gym kind of person. In fact, she’s not really an _exercise_ kind of person. She’s been to the odd gym class with her sister before – Elsa is _super_ into her fitness – but she’s never really found any enjoyment from them, never relished in the burn of her muscles or the shortness of breath the way in which her sister does. 

Still. She thinks that this might be good for her. 

It’s been eight months since her relationship with Hans came to an end, and she’s slowly feeling more and more like herself, now beginning to enjoy the independence that comes with single life. She’s enjoying the fact that she can mostly do as she pleases without having to consult anybody, that she gets to make decisions like these for herself; that she can choose to sign up to a self-defense class without having to seek permission from anyone else. 

Now that she’s here, though – sat in the parking lot, wearing her newly purchased workout clothes and sneakers – she feels ridiculous. 

The gym was a well-known, family-run facility in town, and she had found the class advertised on her Facebook feed late last night. _S_ _elf-defense for beginners_ had caught her eye, and when she had seen that there was one space left, she decided to enroll on a whim. She’d even paid in advance as a motivator to attend and had spent far too much money than she needed to on the clothes she was wearing. 

She was early, and she waited in the car until she saw other women who looked like they might be attending the class before she made her way into the gym. She was greeted immediately by the overpowering scent of sweat – the strong air-conditioning only seeming to emphasise it – and she twitched her nose out of habit before she stepped further into the facility. 

“Hi,” she smiled at the dark-haired receptionist, “I’m here for the – ah – self-defense class?” 

“Perfect,” the young woman beamed, “is this your first time?” 

She had already moved to grab a clipboard with a blank form attached to it, and she handed it over when Anna nodded. 

“Just fill this in for health and safety, and then you’re going to want to go up to the first floor, second door on the left.” 

Anna thanked her and began to fill in the form. She was halfway through completing it when her brows pulled together slightly at the name that had been written at the top of the form, next to the word _trainer._

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, “I think that there’s been a mistake. I – um – I had signed up for the _women’s_ self-defense class, and I...” she trailed off, her light eyes searching the other woman’s face in a desperate plea for – well, _something._

The dark-haired woman shrugged her shoulders apologetically and offered Anna a soft smile. 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” she sighed, “it’s supposed to be me teaching.” 

Anna’s eyes flicked down to the name badge that sat on the left side of her uniform. _Honeymaren._

“But I pulled my back in last night’s advanced class, so Kristoff’s taking over for me tonight. But don’t worry!” she rushed to finish as Anna’s eyes widened, “everyone else in the class are women, and he’s –” 

Anna cocked an expectant brow as Honeymaren rolled her lips together and then sighed. 

She waited for the word _nice,_ but it didn’t come. 

“He’s... not so bad?” the brunette winced – squinted one of her eyes and everything – and despite herself, Anna laughed slightly at her pained expression. Honeymaren relaxed at the sound. “Look, I’m sorry, we probably should have put out a warning or something – I totally get it if you’ve changed your mind. It’ll be me again next week if you want to start then, instead, and I’ll refund you for the trouble.” 

Anna bit down on her lip as she drummed the tip of the pen nervously against the clipboard. There was no reason for her to feel so _awkward,_ really; it was just a surprise, since she had been expecting a female instructor, and it wasn’t like she was the only one in the class, so there was no need to be so weird about it. 

And even if this guy didn’t sound like the most welcoming of instructors, Anna wasn’t here to make friends. She was here to learn self-defense, to boost her confidence, to feel like she was doing _something,_ so – 

“No,” she said, “I - it’s fine, honestly. Don’t worry about it.” 

. 

. 

. 

Self-defense for beginners had sounded like a good idea late last night when she couldn’t sleep, but now that she was stood here in this room full of beautiful women – most of them with toned abdomens and muscular thighs and faces full of make-up – Anna was pretty certain that this was quite possibly the worst idea that she’d ever had. 

Rectangular gym mats lined the floor of the studio – each one a good metre or so apart from the next – and the redhead swallowed thickly as she made a beeline towards one of the free mats that was positioned towards the back of the studio. 

Anna busied herself by re-styling her high ponytail, and she smiled at the small blonde who came to stand beside her, although the gesture was met with raised brows and a huff of breath. 

Alright, then. 

Well, she wasn’t here to make friends, anyway. 

At seven o’clock on the dot, _Kristoff_ came wandering into the room, and Anna’s cheeks flushed a light pink immediately at the sight of him. 

Of _course_ he’d look like _that,_ she thought. It was just her luck, really, that the guy who was teaching the class that she’d never been to before – and would no doubt make a fool of herself in front of – was one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. 

Dressed in a white wife beater, black shorts and dark sneakers, everything about him was – well. _Huge._ He was tall, easily standing well over six foot, with golden skin and a mop of mussed fair hair that stuck out at all angles. 

Even from the opposite end of the studio, she could tell that everything about him completely dwarfed her. From his broad shoulders to his bulging biceps, his wide thighs and his defined calves – hell, even his _hands_ were enormous. 

Anna tried not to stare too intently at his bare arms, though it was difficult not to notice the way in which his muscles flexed when he unceremoniously dumped the dark duffle bag that he had been carrying down onto the floor, and she tried to look unphased by his presence when he moved to stand in the centre of the floor. 

He didn’t look overly pleased to be there, truth be told. He wasn’t exactly scowling, but he was certainly frowning. His dark eyes narrowed as he placed his hands on his hips – the position emphasising his large, muscular shoulders – and he scanned over the studio. 

It was ridiculous, the way in which her heart rate rapidly increased when his eyes trailed across her for a brief moment. He was looking at _everyone,_ after all, and so she scolded herself for being so ridiculous. 

It's the lack of sex, she thinks. It’s messing with her, now. 

Eight months of _nothing_ will do that to a person. Right? 

Still – his dark eyes found their way back to hers a few seconds later, and her stomach clenched tightly. 

. 

. 

. 

The warm-up alone nearly killed her. 

Thankfully, she wasn’t alone, and many of the other women – even the ones who were clearly in much better shape than she was – were in a similar position to her; sprawled out on the mat, water bottle in hand, covered in sweat and panting harshly. 

The sound of his large hands clapping together three times – his signal that they were ready to start, she thinks – caused her to groan quietly. Anna squeezed her eyes tightly shut and attempted to steady her breath before she placed her water bottle back down next to her mat and pushed herself to stand once more. 

_He_ was completely unphased by the warm-up – if anything, he looked rather bored, and the thought irritated her more than it should have done. He was busy examining his fingernails whilst he waited for everyone to get into their positions, and Anna swallowed, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious and aware of the fact that she had absolutely no idea what she was doing. 

It wasn’t like he was going to be _awful_ about it though – right? 

. 

. 

. 

Wrong. 

He was horrible. 

“No,” he grunted – _again_ – as he stood at the end of her gym mat, directly before her. His arms were crossed over his chest, and that bored-yet-irritated look was plain to see all over his face; but more than anything, Anna could hardly breathe from the way in which he towered over her. 

He had a good foot on her, at least, and she couldn’t help but keep looking at the size of his hands compared to her own. It was _insane._

She resisted the urge to give up entirely, fought the way in which her shoulders wanted to sag and her arms wanted to drop back down to her sides, even though he was pushing her closer and closer to doing just that. Anna inhaled a deep breath before she bent her knees a little more, hoping that the small change would be enough to correct the stance. 

Apparently not. 

“Nope,” he said, popping the _p,_ and this time, Anna groaned in frustration, although she still didn’t move. 

They were supposed to be working on throwing a punch, although Anna was still working on how to _stand_ in order to do so. She never knew that there was a correct way to stand – it never seemed like anyone put that much thought into it in any of the movies that she’d watched – and she was well aware of the fact that her face was no doubt the same colour as her hair at this point. 

She’d known all along that this was a bad idea. 

Kristoff cocked a brow at her huffed breath, and his lips quirked just a touch before he corrected his expression and frowned again. Anna watched as his arms dropped down by his sides as he sighed at her, too, and she shuffled awkwardly beneath his intense gaze. 

“Can I touch you?” he bit out, and Anna swallowed thickly before she nodded her head once. 

His golden skin was warm to the touch as he began to maneuver her stiff limbs, and despite the fact that he was clearly irritated by her inability to pick any of this up as quickly as the others, he was still careful and gentle as he moved her. Anna’s face burned impossibly darker as his large, calloused palm wrapped around her bicep with ease, and he squeezed the muscle softly. 

“Relax,” he told her, “you’re too tense.” 

Anna tried her best to do just that. “Sorry,” she murmured, and he rolled his eyes, though he didn’t say anything more. 

Once she had loosened up a little, he was able to move her and correct her stance with much more ease, and although her eyes widened when he crouched down and patted at the backs of her knees, she managed to keep her breathing steady whilst he placed her how he wanted her. 

“There,” he grunted as he moved to stand in front of her, “that’s more like it.” 

And then he turned and left her, moving on to critique the next person. 

. 

. 

. 

By the time that they cooled down, Anna was dead on her feet. 

“Good job, everyone,” Kristoff said half-heartedly as he dismissed them, although he was more focused on retrieving his bag than he was on seeing everyone out of the studio. 

Anna rolled her eyes as she reached for her water bottle and moved to leave. Since she had been at the back of the class, she was one of the last to leave, and by the time that she reached the door he was leaning against it, holding it open so that they could all pass through. 

She offered him a small smile that he didn’t return, and she huffed out a frustrated breath as she exited the studio. 

It didn’t matter that he was incredibly handsome – not when he was that rude. Besides, she wasn’t here to make friends, she was here to learn how to defend herself, should she ever need to. 

Still, she couldn’t help but turn her head over her shoulder at the sound of keys jangling, and she watched as he locked the studio door behind them. Anna’s eyes raked over his form once again before she turned back to face in the direction that she was walking, and she exhaled a long breath as she headed towards her car. 

It was probably for the best that she wouldn’t have to see him again – after all, she was certain that being in the same room as him every week would be nothing but torture. 


	2. Chapter 2

The following sessions are nowhere near as awkward as the first. 

It’s safe to say that Honeymaren is a _much_ more patient – and welcoming – teacher than Kristoff, and Anna’s now moved from her spot at the very back of studio to a comfortable position in the middle row. 

She’s getting better at this, too. She’s no longer so stiff or so tense, the warm-ups don’t have her quite so out of breath, and she’s also getting to grips with new terminology, like _heel palm strike_ and _groin kick._

Her movements are sharper, more forceful and precise; and she still doesn't find any pleasure in the way that her muscles burn and ache, but she’s getting closer to being in that place, she thinks. 

Anna’s beginning to feel like she made the right decision, after all. 

. 

. 

. 

On the seventh week, Elsa joins her. She warns Anna that she won’t be able to make it a weekly thing – she’s busy with work, and she has her own gym classes that she attends, too – but she’s free tonight, and Anna thinks that it will at least be fun for them both to try it together. 

(She doesn’t miss the way in which her sister’s cheeks flush at the sight of their trainer, either.) 

Elsa narrows her eyes in suspicion at the look on her sister’s face, but Anna just smirks and shrugs her shoulders before she gets into position. 

As expected, Elsa’s a natural – she does _way_ better than Anna did on her first session – and they’re both grinning once the hour’s over. 

“Great job tonight,” Honeymaren smiles as people begin to filter out of the studio. She cocks a brow at Anna – her eyes dancing between the sisters – and crosses her arms over her chest. “Have you thought any more about what I said last week? About maybe moving up to the next class?” 

Elsa looks a little surprised at that – Anna hadn’t mentioned that to her – but the redhead shrugs her shoulders and smiles apologetically. “I don’t know,” she sighs, “I just – maybe? If there was... you know. A women’s only option. Like this one.” 

Anna knows that there are almost as many men as there are women in the next class – she’s seen them waiting to come into the studio once her class finishes – and it’s silly, she knows, but she doesn’t like the idea of it. It makes her feel uncomfortable. 

So. No. 

Honeymaren looks thoughtful for a moment before she speaks again, her tone cautious and careful. “Is it men – like, in general? You know, _all_ men? Or –” 

“No, no,” Anna interrupts, shaking her head softly. 

She doesn’t want to make this weird or make it into a _thing_ when it’s definitely not. Anna’s just – not used to this environment, that’s all, and she already feels uncomfortable enough doing this in front of people who are obviously a lot more experienced and skilled than her. 

One of the main reasons that she signed up to the beginner’s class was to increase her self-confidence. She has a feeling that the advanced class would just crush it. 

“It’s nothing serious, or – I don’t even know. It sounds ridiculous, but it’s... well. It’s already intimidating enough, coming to something – some _where_ like this,” Anna says, waving her arms dramatically around the studio. “And I just...” 

Anna trails off, not sure whether she’s even making any sense, but Honeymaren’s face softens in a way that makes her think that the brunette understands what she’s trying to say. 

It wouldn’t be so bad if she was someone like Elsa, or Honeymaren; if she was fit, or athletic, or naturally good at anything physical. But Anna’s never been a sporty person, is clumsy and awkward and more of a _practice makes perfect_ kind of girl, and her first session here had been more than enough of a reminder of that. 

“Well,” Honeymaren says, “there’s always the option of private lessons, if you’re interested.” 

Anna cocks a brow at that. “Private lessons?” 

“Yeah,” the brunette smiles. “They’re a little more expensive than the group sessions, but if it’s the idea of being in front of a group that’s putting you off, then maybe it’ll work out for you.” 

Elsa smiles encouragingly at her, and Anna shrugs her shoulders. “They – they sound perfect, actually,” she says as she thinks it over. 

Right from the get-go, she said that she was doing this for _herself._ She wasn’t here to make friends; she was here to learn how to defend herself. 

“It’s not always just one of us training – all of our schedules are kind of inconsistent, but there would always be _someone_ to train you, if you’re interested.” 

“No, I definitely am!” Anna grins, excited. 

The more that she thinks about it, the more that this sounds like what she was looking for in the first place. 

. 

. 

. 

It’s five minutes to eight when Anna walks through the double doors of the gym, and the familiar scent of sweat fills her nostrils as she shoulders the small bag that she’s carrying. There’s nobody on the front desk, but Anna’s familiar enough with the routine by now that she makes quick work of signing in and then climbs the stairs to the first floor. 

Honeymaren’s expecting her – she had text earlier on that day to confirm that Anna was still coming – and she double-checks the message to confirm which studio they had agreed to meet in. It’s one of the smaller rooms, and Anna slowly opens the door as she steps into it. 

She smiles softly at Honeymaren, although her smile falters a little when she spots _him._

She’s seen him around the gym a few times here and there since that first session – he wasn’t an easy person to miss, after all – but they were only ever quick, fleeting moments where they were passing by one another. Kristoff never so much as spared a glance in her direction, so she was pretty sure that he didn’t remember her at all. 

Which made sense, really. After all, why would he remember her? 

“Hi, Anna,” Honeymaren greets her with a smile, though she quickly snaps her head back round to continue glaring up at the tall blonde. 

He’s in another wife beater – a black one, today – and the dark shade makes the golden hue of his damp skin and his fair hair stand out even more. No sleeves is a fantastic look on him, she thinks; though she doesn’t miss the irritated look on his face as he looks down at Honeymaren. 

Anna responds with a quiet _hello –_ the awkward tension in the room palpable – before she pads her way over towards the corner of the studio, hoping to stay out of whatever was going on _there._ It wasn’t any of her business if they didn’t get along, and Anna busies herself with her bag, making a point of moving slowly as she retrieves her gym towel and her water bottle from within it. 

She expects him to leave now that she’s here, but he doesn’t, and she frowns at the sound of his voice. 

“Come _on,”_ he says, practically whining. It’s almost amusing, not hearing him sound short and frustrated. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Maren.” 

She doesn’t quite catch the brunette’s hushes response to whatever it is that he’s complaining about, but she lets out a long breath of her own before she moves to stand, items in hand. She can’t just stay crouched here in the corner forever, and she thinks that he might get the hint if she heads on over, so – 

“I never agreed to this,” he grumbles. He’s not trying hard to be quiet, she thinks; although he’s not making a point of being loud, either, but Honeymaren’s dark brows knot further together as she stares up at him, and Anna’s cheeks begin to flush as she starts to piece together where this conversation is going and why it’s happening. 

Oh, _no._

Honeymaren mutters something inaudible as Anna begins to make her way over towards them, and she watches intently as Kristoff crosses his bare arms over his chest. The action makes him seem so much _bigger_ than he already is, and he huffs loudly as he narrows his eyes over at her as she continues to approach. 

“Fine,” he bites out, dark eyes flickering quickly between both women, “but you owe me one. _Big time.”_

Honeymaren completely ignores him and instead turns her attention to Anna, a huge, bright smile lighting up her face. 

“Hey!” she grins, and the redhead attempts to tuck her bangs behind her ears as she comes to stand in front of them both. “So – ah, funny story,” she chuckles, her eyes darting between the two of them, though Kristoff’s lips remain in a firm, thin line. “I know I promised that it would be me for your first session, but I've _somehow_ been double booked.” 

Anna’s brows furrow a little at that. “Double booked?” she repeats, her eyes dropping to the floor. 

She knew that this was coming, really – had guessed as much from Kristoff’s frustrated whines – but her stomach still knots tightly at the thought of being here, _alone,_ with him for the next hour. It’s not as though she thinks he’d do anything, because she’s sure that he wouldn’t, and he’s handsome enough, too – but he’s also rude, and cold, and snappy; and more than anything, he’s go ing out of his way to make it _very_ clear just how little he wants to be here, training _her._

“Yeah,” Honeymaren sighs, “I’m so sorry, Anna; really, I am. I don’t even know how it happened. Kris is the only other person who’s free, and he – ah – well. I know that he’s taken one of my classes that you’ve been at before, so I just thought –” 

Anna dares to look up at him beneath her lashes whilst Honeymaren explains, and she can _feel_ the disdain radiating from him as he glares over at her. 

She can’t do this. She _can’t._ She already feels embarrassed enough as it is, she doesn’t need him here making her feel even worse about herself. 

“Oh,” Anna breathes, her head shaking from side to side as she moves backwards ever so slightly. “Oh, no, don’t worry – honestly, it’s fine. We can re-arrange, it’s not a problem –” 

“Don’t be silly!” Honeymaren says as she shakes her head, and she raises one of her arms to pat Kristoff on the shoulder. The action only makes his frown deepen. “You’re here, now, and Kristoff doesn’t mind at all. Do you, _pal_?” 

Anna watches the way in which his jaw clenches and his lips press together before he lets out a long exhale and forces his eyes over towards hers once more. 

“No,” he says, his voice flat and void of any emotion. “It’s my pleasure.” 

It sounds like it’s anything but. 

“Perfect,” Honeymaren grins, “and Anna, I really am sorry about the confusion. It’ll definitely be me next week, okay?” 

Anna’s frozen to the spot, stiff and unsure and uncomfortable. She doesn’t want to be here anymore, and she shifts awkwardly beneath his intense glare. 

“Alright,” she responds. 

Honeymaren seems satisfied enough with that. The brunette makes quick work of saying goodbye before she leaves, closing the door behind her, and Anna waits for a beat before she clears her throat. 

“I’ll leave,” she tells him, and she can see the way in which his brows lift in surprise at her declaration. “I – I’ll just go. You – I don’t want to be an _inconvenience_ , or anything; so –” 

“It’s fine,” he says shortly, cutting her off. “This is my _job_.” 

Well – he's got here, there. 

“Okay,” she sighs, and then shifts nervously once more. He’s just standing there, glaring at her; and she doesn’t know what he wants her to _do._ Wasn’t he listening when Honeymaren mentioned this being her first private lesson? “So, what do you want me to –” 

“Do you know how to stand properly yet?” he asks, cutting her off once more, and Anna bristles defensively at the smug way in which the corner of his mouth quirks at the question. 

“ _Yes_ ,” she tells him, and she’s irritated now, too. 

God, he was such an _asshole,_ and _–_

“Wait,” she says, her brows knotting together as she purses her lips. “You – you _remembered_ that?” 

Anna swears that his cheeks flush a little as he scoffs. 

“How could I forget?” he responds with a roll of his eyes, though Anna’s own lips twitch a little at the realisation that he’s _definitely_ blushing . “It’s not every day that I have to teach someone how to _stand_.” 

The ghost of a smirk that had played on her lips falls flat, and Anna huffs in irritation as he drops his arms down by his sides. 

“Alright, then,” he tells her, “show me.” 

Anna inhales a deep breath before she places her water bottle and gym towel down onto the floor and gets herself into position. She remembers Honeymaren’s advice as she straightens her back and softens her knees, as she clenches her fists and tucks her in her elbows, and – 

“Wrong.” 

There’s no way she’s going to be able to last one hour. 


	3. Chapter 3

The last person Anna expects to find leaning against her car after her session is over is Elsa.

The two haven’t spoken since the night before, and they definitely hadn’t made any plans to see each other before the weekend; and as she approaches, she registers the fact that her sister is wearing sweat-soaked gym clothes along with a rather sheepish expression, and -

The penny drops, and Anna comes to a halt just a mere few feet away from the car, shouldering her duffel bag and cocking a brow at her sister.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Anna asks, her light eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “You were the double-booking.”

Elsa purses her lips and wrings her hands together. “Anna, I’m sorry,” she says, her own eyes wide. “I -” she pauses, tilts her head and sighs. “Was he awful?”

Anna doesn’t answer.

“Oh, I’m so - don’t look at me like that, _please._ I can explain, and I really do feel terrible. I had no idea that you were meant to -”

Anna’s never had a very impressive poker face, and Elsa stops rambling as soon as she notices her lips beginning to curve into a smile.

It’s her sister’s turn to narrow her eyes, and Anna can’t help but laugh at how thoroughly unimpressed she looks as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“I can’t believe you,” Anna says, though there’s no malice in her tone as she begins to walk around the side of the vehicle. “You’re such a _stinker_! Why didn’t you just tell me?”

She doesn’t have to ask how Elsa got here - there’s no doubt in her mind that her sister will have walked over - and they both step into the car at the same time. Anna smirks knowingly over at the blonde from the driver’s seat, and Elsa sighs before she begins to explain.

“I didn’t know until we started,” she says. “You never actually told me that you were actually going to go through with the offer for private lessons, and I wasn’t going to, either; but then I was thinking about it after work and I just…” 

Elsa trails off as Anna quirks and expectant brow, and she sighs once more as she runs her hands over her thighs. 

“Well, anyway, I found out once we had started, and Honey _did_ say that you would be fine with Kristoff, but -”

“Honey?” Anna cuts in, her lips pulling up into a knowing smirk, and the blonde lets out a huffed breath as her cheeks turn pink.

“Anna, _please,_ ” she groans, as painfully shy as ever, and the redhead giggles in delight. 

“What?” she asks. “I want to hear _all_ about it whilst I - wait, you do need a ride, right?”

Elsa laughs softly as she moves to take out her low ponytail. “Please,” she says, “if you don’t mind.”

Anna grins wickedly as she starts the engine. “Not at all. But only if you tell me _everything_.”

.

.

.

Kristoff Bjorgman can be as surly and as grumpy and as blunt as he likes, but Anna is stubborn as a mule - always has been - and she is _not_ going to let him stop her from bettering herself. 

(And, truth be told, he wasn’t _that_ bad last week.)

So, she keeps coming back despite the fact that it’s now pretty much official that Honeymaren will be working with Elsa. Anna’s never known her sister to blush so much just at the mention of a woman’s name before, and so she intends on sucking it up and sticking with Kristoff. 

“You’re sure that you don’t mind?” Elsa asks as they make their way into the building - _together,_ this week - and Anna laughs softly. 

“I’m sure,” she grins, “just remember to thank me when you -”

“Elsa! Anna!” Honeymaren grins from where she’s leaning against the front desk, and Elsa offers her a pleading look before the three of them make their way up to the studios on the first floor.

Kristoff is already waiting for her in one of the smaller rooms at the bottom of the hall - leaning against the mirrored wall, phone in hand - and Anna offers him one of her tiniest smiles before she places her duffel bag and towel down in the corner of the room. 

“So,” she says as she pulls her hair into a high ponytail, “I guess you’re kind of stuck with me now.” 

His dark eyes dance around her face even as he shrugs his shoulders.

“It won’t be me every week,” he responds.

His harsh tone stings a little, and it must show on her face because he clears his throat and runs one of his hands through his hair, his eyes darting quickly around the room and landing anywhere but her.

“It’s nothing personal,” he says quickly, “it’s, ah, something we always do. For everyone. We don’t have set schedules, or anything -”

There's something about the way in which he stumbles over his words - his dark eyes lifting to the ceiling and then falling to the floor, his mouth twisted and his expression all kinds of awkward - that has Anna thinking that maybe his bark is much worse than his bite after all, that maybe there’s something more to him than just the cold, grumpy front that he puts out to the world; but she shuts the thought down almost as quickly as it comes, straightening her back and jutting out her chin further as she blinks up at him. 

Kristoff has been down-right rude to her since the moment that she met him, and she’s not going to forget all about that just because he’s tall and handsome and awkward.

“I remember,” Anna interrupts, putting him out of his misery. “Honeymaren told me.”

He regards her for a long moment - his dark eyes narrowing every so slightly - before he lets out a quick breath and nods his head.

“Right,” he says, then pushes himself back from where he’s been leaning against the mirror and begins to make his way over towards the centre of the room. “Come on. You can start with the usual warm up.”

.

.

.

Anna had been convinced that she wouldn’t be able to last the full hour with Kristoff the first time that they had trained together, but four weeks later, they’re still going strong; and though she had cursed Honeymaren something awful when she had first placed her with the blonde, and whilst her sister still thinks that she very much owes her one, Anna finds that she doesn’t really mind it so much, anymore. 

He’s still gruff, and blunt, and she’s yet to see him crack a smile, but there’s no doubt in her mind that he’s good at what he does. Kristoff seems to know exactly when to push her as well as how far to go, seems to have sussed out her limitations and breaking point rather quickly, and though he had made it quite clear that he was anything but enthusiastic about training her that very first day, he’s snapped back into professional-mode and hasn’t made his irritation quite so obvious since then. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

Anna frowns at the question, and the steady rhythm that she had established whilst jumping rope falters.

“What do you mean?” she asks, a little taken aback, and he shakes his head quickly as she comes to a stop.

“You never told me,” he explains. “Why you’re here, what you - you know. What your goals are, what you want to get out of doing this.”

Anna doesn’t necessarily _want_ to be defensive, but she bristles all the same, and Kristoff lets out a sigh. 

“I’m not trying to be an asshole or anything,” he tells her, “I just - well, I figured that since it’s mostly going to me who’s training you, then maybe we could make the sessions more…” he sighs, gesturing vaguely towards her. “Tailored to you.”

She blinks several times - her lips parted and her jaw relaxed - before she clears her throat and nods her head. 

“Oh,” she says, her brows lifting in surprise. “I don’t - I didn’t - well, I guess that I just wanted - _want -_ to be able to defend myself. In case I ever need to.”

“Alright,” he nods.

From then on, they focus more on defensive techniques as well as attacks, on punches and kicks and how to deliver them in a way that won’t see Anna injuring herself, and Kristoff actually _chuckles_ at the excited grin that she sends his way when he walks into the studio with a pair of baby pink boxing gloves and black training pads.

“Alright, feisty pants,” he says with a smirk as he holds out the gloves to her, “let’s see what you can do.”

Anna never thought that punching like this could be as exhausting as it actually is, but Kristoff doesn’t let her off easily, and though he critiques her stance and each sloppy hit - has her repeat the action again and again until he’s satisfied that she’s got it right - he’s not exactly _mean_ about it, not anymore; and Anna finds herself smiling softly up at him as he carefully helps her to remove the gloves at the end of the session. 

She finds herself blushing around him more and more as the weeks go on, too; and Kristoff is anything but handsy or inappropriate with her - if anything, he’s cautious and wary, always distant and instructive - but sometimes his skin brushes against her own for matters of practicality and nothing more, and Anna’s light eyes widen dramatically when he asks for permission to correct her stance and places his hands on either side of her waist. 

“There,” he says from where he stands behind her, “that’s better. Remember to use your core - if your core isn’t held well, then it’s going to knock off the rest of you.”

It’s not the first time that he’s put his hands on her like this, but it’s the first time that Anna’s ever seen him do it via the mirror that lines the studio wall, and she doesn’t mean for it to - doesn’t want to make this weird or strange - but she can’t help the way in which her breath hitches at the sight of his large hands resting on her hips. 

His dark eyes lift immediately from where he’s standing behind her to meet with hers through the glass, and her heart races as a familiar heat begins to stir within her at the intensity she finds in his gaze. 

They’re both silent for a moment, and though Anna keeps her eyes locked onto his, she doesn’t miss the way in which his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, either. Kristoff’s thick fingers twitch ever so slightly from where they’re still placed carefully on either side of her hips, the heels of both of his palms brushing just a touch against the slither of exposed skin between her gym pants and her sports bra, and her heart pounds rapidly even as he drops them back down to his sides. 

“That’s - that’s better,” he comments, and she expects his tone to be harsh, and blunt, and cold; but he clears his throat before he continues, and this time, his words come out soft and somewhat gentle. “Now you can try again.”

.

.

.

“So,” Elsa asks as they walk across the lot towards Anna’s car, “how are your lessons going?”

The redhead tries her best not to look too affected by the question.

“They’re going well,” she says, and it’s the truth - she feels so much more confident now; not just in her abilities to defend herself, but in her own skin, too; and the fact that her trainer seems as though he’s starting to warm up to her is just another bonus. “What about you?” she asks with a smirk, “how are things going with Honey?”

Elsa’s cheeks flush at the question, though she doesn’t shy away from it anymore.

“They’re - yeah. They’re going well, too,” Elsa tells her, and Anna offers her a knowing look as they both step into her car. “We’re - ah - well, we’re going to see each other over the weekend, I think. Maybe.”

“Oh?” Anna responds as she starts the engine, and she doesn’t want to sound _too_ excited - she knows how Elsa can be about these kinds of things - but the wide grin that spreads across her face does little to conceal her joy.

“Mmhm,” Elsa hums, “so I was wondering if you wouldn't mind -”

“Yes!”

The blonde laughs softly at the interruption. 

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask you,” she grins. “I was actually going to see if you wouldn’t mind coming along with me.”

That’s the last thing that Anna was expecting her sister to ask, and she can’t help but frown in confusion. 

“I - wait, you want me to come with you on your date?” 

Anna would do anything for her sister, really, she would; but she already has a feeling that she’d be a third wheel the entire time, and she wouldn’t want to make either of them feel awkward, or like they had to talk to her, or - 

“Well,” Elsa continues, “it’s not exactly a _date._ I mean, it could be - it might be - but… Honey is part of an amateur boxing team, and they’re having a fight night on Saturday. She said that it’ll be fun - there’s a bar and snacks and things - and you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I just thought that maybe -”

“No, no,” Anna interrupts, nodding her head enthusiastically as she pulls out of the lot. “That sounds great! I’d love to come.”

The blonde offers her a soft, warm smile. “Thank you, Anna. I really appreciate it.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” she grins, “I already told you, you can thank me at the wedding.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A while ago now, the lovely Ronnie drew some art that was inspired by my au 'Golden Boy' whereby all of the characters were boxers, and she designed some jackets for them. The link to that art is here -  
> https://ronnieiswriting.tumblr.com/search/golden%20boy
> 
> and those designs were what I had in mind when writing about their jackets in this chapter :)

It’s late - gone nine o’clock - by the time that the sister’s reach the venue, and Elsa frowns as she leans slightly into Anna’s side, the corners of her mouth downturned as she squints up at the blood-red neon sign. 

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” the blonde murmurs, her voice low, and Anna blinks in confusion as her light eyes dance between her sister and the building.

Admittedly, the red-brick, dimly-lit venue wasn’t their usual go-to for a night out; but whilst it didn’t look like much from the outside, the area around them is busy enough to suggest that a reasonable amount of people consider this a decent place to go to, and Anna smiles as she reaches between them and gives her sister’s hand a reassuring squeeze. 

She thinks that she knows what’s going on here - Elsa’s anxiety still creeps up on her sometimes, especially when she feels out of control - and so she speaks softly as she moves to step forwards towards the double-doors.

“Don’t go getting cold feet now,” Anna says with a smile. “Come on. You’ll feel much better once you see her.” 

.

.

.

It’s rather crowded inside, although it’s not too busy that the two of them can’t easily weave their way through the groups of people who stand around talking; and Anna laughs softly as she makes a beeline towards the bar at the back of the narrow room, gently pulling Elsa along with her.

“You know I’m not that much of a drinker,” the blonde says even as she follows her lead, and Anna offers her a smirk. 

“I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Anna says, “but maybe it’ll loosen you up a little so that you’re not so…”

She trails off as her light eyes trail over the length of her sister’s body several times, her lips pursing until she finds the perfect word. 

“ _Tense._ ”

Elsa balks at that. “I’m not _tense,_ ” she counters, though she waits for a beat or two before she makes a point of dramatically relaxing her shoulders. “I’m just - I don’t know.”

“Nervous?” Anna suggests as she begins to rummage through her satchel in order to find her purse, and when she looks back up, she notes that Elsa looks deadly serious as she regards her. 

“Yes,” the blonde confirms, and Anna softly as she pulls out her purse. 

“Elsa, you don’t need to be nervous about anything,” she says as she leans against the surface of the bar. “Honey obviously likes you to have invited you here. A _lot._ Just - all you have to do is be yourself, and it’ll all work out, I promise.”

Elsa doesn’t look particularly convinced, but she exhales a long, deep breath through her nose and then smiles all the same, and Anna quirks a brow at her as the bartender approaches. 

“So,” the redhead smirks, “what are you having?” 

.

.

.

“Elsa! Anna!”

Honeymaren spots them both as soon as they reach the bottom of the staircase that leads into the fog-filled basement, and whilst the music in the venue is loud - even more so now that they’ve made their way downstairs - the brunette’s voice carries over it and immediately catches their attention.

Anna’s shoulders relax whilst Elsa stiffens beside her, and the redhead gives her sister one final reassuring squeeze of the hand before they both make their way over towards where Honeymaren is standing. 

“Don’t worry,” Anna says through her wide smile as she leans in towards the blonde, “and remember - just be yourself.”

The basement is even more dimly-lit than the floor above, but several spotlights shine on the boxing ring which is positioned in the centre of the room. Anna’s light eyes dance over towards it as they approach the brunette, and much to her surprise, she finds that there are no chairs or seating area surrounding it.

Truth be told, she hadn’t had the slightest clue as to what to expect when it came to amateur boxing fights, though she doesn’t think any more of it and instead turns in order to greet Honeymaren and the dark-haired men that she’s standing next to. 

“This is my brother, Ryder,” Honeymaren explains, and Anna notes the similarities between the two of them immediately. “How are you both, anyway? Did you guys get here okay?”

Anna starts off doing most of the talking, though after a minute or two, Elsa slowly relaxes into the conversation, too; and Anna offers her an encouraging smile before she turns her attention to Ryder, striking up a conversation with him in order to give the two women some time to talk amongst themselves.

“Cool jacket, by the way,” Anna says, nodding her head towards the embroidered logo that rests on the front of the dark material, and Ryder glances down at his bomber jacket before he grins back up at her. 

“You think so?” he asks, and then he laughs enthusiastically when she nods. “Me, too! And oh, man, you should have seen it - Honey went _nuts_ when she found out that I got red on my sleeves whilst she got _mustard._ ” 

Anna giggles at his words, though Honeymaren’s far too caught up in her conversation with Elsa to have noticed her brother snickering at her expense.

“So,” she continues smoothly, “are you going to be fighting tonight, too?”

Ryder shakes his head at that, and his smile falters ever so slightly.

“Nah. I mean - I was supposed to be, but I sprained my wrist the week before last, and Oaken won’t sign me off because of the injury.”

“Wait, did you say Oaken?” Anna asks, surprise evident in her tone, and Ryder nods.

“Yeah, Oaken,” he repeats. “You know him? Big, tall - like _really_ tall - ginger guy? Moustache? Always smiling?”

“I know Oaken,” she confirms, laughing slightly at Ryder’s description. 

Alright, so she doesn’t exactly know him so much as she knows _of_ him, but still. 

“He owns the gym, right?”

“Yeah!” Ryder says with a grin. “He coaches the boxing team, too.”

“Oh wow, that’s -” Anna starts, though she stops abruptly when a loud voice echoes throughout the room, and she glances over her shoulder to look towards the ring. 

A man that she doesn’t recognise stands tall in the middle of it, and she listens as he encourages the crowd to gather round, informing them all that the next fight will start in just a few minutes. 

“We should probably head round the back,” Ryder says with a sigh as he nudges his sister with his elbow. “Yours is the next one after this, right?” 

Honeymaren agrees with a nod, and her eyes dance over the two before they settle on Elsa.

“I’ll see you after the fight,” she says with a smirk, and even in the darkness, Anna doesn’t miss the way in which her sister’s cheeks flush a rosy shade as she nods.

“Right,” the blonde smiles, “well. Good luck.”

Once the siblings have walked out of earshot, Anna turns to her own sister and grins brightly.

“So?” she practically squeals, “how’s it going? What have you guys been talking about?”

Elsa laughs at her sister’s enthusiasm before she shakes her head.

“ _Stop,”_ the blonde smiles, “I’m - it’s going well. So far.”

“Good,” Anna grins, and then her eyes dance to the staircase as people begin to descend and make their way over towards the ring. “Hey, do you want to go and grab another drink?”

Elsa tilts her head to the side ever so slightly. “Why, don’t you want to stay and watch?” she asks, and Anna shrugs her shoulders.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, “it’s not like it’s anyone we know, anyway; and if we go now, we should surely be back in time for Honey’s fight.”

“Alright, then,” Elsa agrees, and neither of the sister’s turns back as they move up the stairs and head towards the bar.

.

.

.

Anna comes to a halt so abruptly that she almost spills her entire drink all over the floor.

From where she’s positioned ever so slightly ahead, Elsa comes to a stop, too; though the blonde shoots her a quizzical look before she follows her gaze over towards the boxing ring, and her eyes widen in realisation. 

“Is that -”

“Kristoff,” Anna finishes, her own eyes wide as she gapes over at him, and she swallows thickly from where she hovers at the bottom of the stairs. 

Her heart near enough skips at the sight of him, and although she had been wondering whether she might see him here, she had been attempting to push what she knew to be hope down; especially since there had been no sign - or mentions - of him thus far. She had assumed that this wasn’t his scene, although looking at him now as he near enough danced around the ring in a pair of dark shorts and matching black gloves, it clearly was. 

During their private lessons, Kristoff was always at least _somewhat_ covered, but now, he was shirtless; and although it was near enough impossible to get a good view of his bare skin due to the distance and the size of the crowd who stood around the ring, she could certainly see enough. 

Her cheeks flush at the realisation that she’s staring at him, and she’s also highly aware of the fact that Elsa’s eyes are near enough burning into her, too; and so Anna quickly attempts to regain her composure. 

“Did he not mention that he would be here?” Elsa asks, her head tilting to the side as she glances back over towards the ring; and whilst Anna knows that her sister means no harm by the question, the words still sting all the same. 

They shouldn’t, of course - she’s not really got any right to feel like this about it all, about _him._ It’s just that it’s easy enough to get caught up in the moment - especially when moments involve a six-foot-four personal trainer with golden skin and fair hair, with honey-brown eyes that she could practically melt into and a deep voice that’s somehow still velvet-smooth - though it isn’t as though he can help any of that.

Despite his initial gruffness, Kristoff has always been professional. He always asks for permission to touch her, to use his hands to move and manipulate her body, always checks that she’s comfortable - especially when they try new activities - and since she enjoys torturing herself, Anna’s been starting to think that maybe there was _more_ to things with him, after all; that the way in which he looked at her wasn’t necessarily platonic, that he was feeling the same burning desire when his eyes met with her own through the studio mirror -

But Honeymaren had invited Elsa here, had told her about the event and asked her to come and be a spectator; and Kristoff hadn’t mentioned a thing. 

Anna shakes her head slightly as she clears her throat, and she plasters on a smile even as Elsa narrows her eyes. 

“No,” she says, her voice level and even, “why would he?”

.

.

.

From where they’re positioned towards the back of the room, it’s difficult to make out an awful lot of what’s going on inside the ring; but Kristoff wins his match whilst Anna chugs down her drink, and the cheering crowd eventually disperses once again as the two men duck underneath the rope and exit the ring. 

Anna tries her best not to pay him much mind whilst the fight finishes up, although it’s challenging to resist the urge to glance over at him. Once the area around the ring has cleared, she and Elsa move towards it; an instinctive movement, really - a silent agreement to get as close to the front as they can, ready for Honeymaren’s fight - although they aren’t alone for long. 

“Anna?” 

Even with the background music and Elsa’s voice in her ear, she hears him say her name - all surprised and uncertain - as clear as day, and she swallows thickly before she tilts her chin slightly towards the left and blinks up at him. 

He’s so attractive that it _hurts._

Kristoff has dressed since his fight, and he wears a pair of faded blue jeans along with a plain white t-shirt. He’s wearing the same dark jacket as Ryder, although the stripes down his arms are green rather than red. 

His dark eyes dance over her full length, too; and she realises that this is similarly the first time he’s seen her wearing anything other than her gym clothes. She momentarily regrets her choice of a purple skater dress with dark tights and heeled boots - thinks of how it’s all rather _plain_ \- but the look in his eyes as he meets hers once more has her thinking that maybe it wasn’t such a boring outfit, after all.

“Hi,” she finds herself saying; though before she can compliment him on his win, Ryder appears next to him, two drinks in hand and a wide smile on his face. 

“Hey, guys!” he says enthusiastically, “did you see Kristoff’s win?”

It’s Elsa who confirms that they did indeed, and Anna watches as one of his large hands wraps around the cool drink that Ryder passes over to him. Her mouth feels incredibly dry, and she wets her lips with her tongue before she lifts her eyes to his just as the bald-headed man returns to the ring in order to introduce the next fight. 

It suddenly feels difficult to breathe, let alone speak; but Anna pushes through her nervousness and smiles up at him. 

“Congratulations,” she says, her voice softer than she intended it to be, but Kristoff’s lips curve into a smile that has her heart pounding impossibly faster. 

“Thanks,” he responds, and then Honeymaren takes to the ring.

.

.

.

Standing near the front of the ring whilst Honeymaren fights is an experience, to say the least; and as the crowd roars and cheers and pushes forwards with each hit, Anna finds herself leaning further and further into her sister in order to avoid pressing into Kristoff. Eventually, though, contact with him is near enough inevitable; though he barely acknowledges the way in which her arm brushes against the dark bomber jacket that he’s wearing or the apologetic smile that she offers his way. 

Honeymaren wins her fight, too; and Anna can’t help but laugh at Ryder’s enthusiastic cheers. She notices the way in which her sister’s cheeks flush when the referee takes one of Honey’s hands in his own and raises it into the air in celebration of her win, nor does she miss the way Kristoff smirks down at her from where he’s clapping when she inserts her fingers into her mouth and whistles loudly. 

“Hey,” Ryder says, leaning around the front of Kristoff’s torso once he’s calmed down. “Do you want to come round the back with us? It’s kind of small, but it’s a lot quieter than it is out here.”

The sister’s briefly make eye contact as the crowd around them begins to disperse once more, and Elsa nods as Anna smiles. 

“Only if you’re sure you don’t mind,” the blonde says, and Ryder laughs heartily at that.

“Trust me,” he tells her, “we don’t.”

.

.

.

Ryder wasn’t exaggerating - the room that he leads them into is rather small, with two dark couches and a small kitchenette - but it’s certainly a lot less crowded, and as both Ryder and Kristoff wander over towards where Oaken is standing, Anna ends up perching herself down onto the armrest of one of the couches whilst Elsa sits on the main body of it next to Honeymaren. 

They include her in their conversation where they can, but as time ticks on, the two women seem to lose themselves in one another; and as their voices grow quieter and their laughter grows softer, Anna takes the hint and moves to stand. 

She figures that she’ll get herself another drink, perhaps track down Ryder in an attempt to find someone to talk to; though as she makes her way over towards the kitchenette, she loses her footing and stumbles ever so slightly.

A pair of large, familiar hands wrap around the bare skin of her upper arms in order to steady her before she can crash into his broad chest, and Anna cringes at her clumsiness as she tilts her chin and meets his eyes. 

“Sorry! I’m sorry,” she squeals, and despite the fact that he’s frowning, she thinks that Kristoff doesn’t look annoyed so much as he looks concerned.

“You okay?” he asks, and she nods her head as he releases his loose grip on her. 

“I’m fine,” she tells him, immediately missing the warmth of his skin against hers, “thank you. I was just…” 

She trails off, not quite sure of what to say as she blinks up at him, and his dark eyes flicker behind her to where Elsa and Honeymaren are still talking on the couch. Anna watches as realisation dawns across his features, and she turns her head over her shoulder in order to follow his gaze. 

“I was going to go and get some fresh air,” he tells her, and she whips her head round in order to look at him once more. “If you - you know. If you wanted to join me.”

She wishes now that she would have had time to get herself another drink - thinks that she could really use the liquid courage - but she nods enthusiastically anyway. 

“Sure,” she smiles, “that would be great.”

.

.

.

“So,” Anna says as she moves to lean her back against the cool brick wall, “you never told me that you were a boxer.”

Kristoff scoffs at that as he rolls his eyes and moves to stand in front of her, but after weeks of training, she’s come to know that the gestures are playful rather than malicious.

“That’s because I’m not,” he tells her. “It’s _amateur_ boxing. It’s just - you know. A hobby.”

“Yeah, but you _won,_ ” she counters with a fond smile, and whilst Kristoff shakes his head, the corners of his mouth twitch all the same, and Anna can’t help but be encouraged by it. “That must mean that you’re pretty good, right?”

“Or maybe the other guy was just really bad.”

Anna narrows her eyes at that. 

“Was he?” she asks, though a shiver runs through her as the wind blows around them, and Kristoff’s brows pull together as he regards her.

“Are you cold?” he says, his eyes narrowing, and she blushes slightly under his gaze. 

Anna doesn’t particularly want to head back inside already - not when she feels as though this could perhaps be an opportunity to test the water between them and find out whether or not he feels the same _something_ that she does - but she can’t hide the way in which her skin prickles, and so she nods her head once as she lifts her shoulders. 

“A little,” she admits; though instead of suggesting that they return inside, her cheeks flush red as she watches the blonde begin to quickly shrug his arms out of the black bomber jacket that he’s wearing. 

She knows that it would be polite to refuse, to shake her head and decline his silent offering; but she also thinks it would be nice to wear his jacket, and she thinks that maybe he doesn’t want to go back inside for the same reasons as her own, and so she swallows the words down and pushes herself away from the brick wall.

“Thank you,” she tells him, her voice low and quiet as he moves to drape the material over her shoulders, and Anna swallows thickly as she pushes her arms through it. 

It’s huge on her, of course; but it’s incredibly warm and smells like - well, like _him_ , and she giggles softly as she stretches out her arms only to find that the sleeves continue way past her hands. 

Kristoff smirks at the sight, and Anna finds her smile softening dramatically as he moves to slowly roll up the sleeves in order to reveal her fingers.

“Don’t mention it,” he tells her.

He’s smiling now, too; and Anna’s light eyes practically shine as she looks up at his face whilst he works. He focuses intently on rolling up the sleeves on both sides - the skin of his calloused palms brushing against the backs of her hands in a way that has her almost shivering again - and her breath hitches in her throat once he finishes the task at hand and returns his gaze to hers. 

“It looks better on you, anyway.”

It’s instinct to laugh, to shyly avert her eyes and dip her chin; but she fights against those urges and doesn’t look away from him. Instead, she firmly holds his gaze - her lips parted and her jaw slack - and she expects him to back away from her, to put a little more distance between their bodies now that he’s finished rolling up her sleeves, but he doesn’t move, either.

The yellow street-lamps cast a soft glow over his face, and her mouth goes dry as she continues to tilt her neck and look up at him. They get close to each other in training, of course, but it never feels like _this;_ and Anna can practically count the dusting of freckles over his nose and beneath his eyes due to the proximity. 

She wonders whether he’s thinking along the same lines as his own eyes dance over her face, and she wants to be bold, wants to lift her hands to his cheeks and brush her fingers over his stubbled jaw, wants to press the pad of her thumb to his lips and part them, wants to know whether he would lean into her touch as she pressed up on her tiptoes and - 

“Anna,” he murmurs after a few beats of silence, and the feel of one of his thumbs brushes against the back of her hand causes her eyes to widen. 

He sounds almost breathless as his dark eyes dance between her own and her lips, and she finds herself inching closer towards him, suddenly thankful for the heeled boots and the slight advantage that they give her now. 

“May I -”

“ _Yes,_ ” she interrupts, her voice just as soft as his own; and her eyes flutter to a close as he slowly leans down towards her. 

The wait is torturous, and once he’s close enough that his warm breath fans pleasantly out across her face, she finds herself instinctively wetting her lips with her tongue in preparation for his kiss. She’s thought about this before, of course; thought about what it would be like if he slotted his mouth over her own, though in all of fantasies it’s never been like this; never out in the open, but always in the studio -

“There you are!”

They both jump apart at the sound of Ryder’s voice, and Anna’s light eyes widen dramatically as Kristoff turns on his heel - facing his back towards her - as they both look over to the fire-exit door that the brunette is leaning out of.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Anna! Elsa said she couldn’t find you, and I...” 

Ryder trails off as his eyes widen dramatically. “Wait, I’m not… _interrupting_ anything, am I?” he asks, and Kristoff raises his hand to rub at the back of his neck even as he shakes his head from side to side.

“What? No! No, of course not,” the blonde dismisses, and Anna clears her throat before she nods in agreement; not trusting herself to speak without her voice breaking nervously. “We were just - we came out to get some air, but we were…”

“We were just about to come back inside,” she finishes for him, and she doesn’t miss the way in which the corners of his mouth turn down as he glances at her. 

She offers him what she hopes is an apologetic smile before she moves to step forwards, her shoulder brushing against his bicep. 

“Right,” he agrees with a nod, “we were just - yeah. Coming back inside.”

Ryder accepts their stumbled explanation easily enough, and Kristoff stays ever so slightly behind her as they follow him through the small, narrow corridor and back into the room. Elsa and Honeymaren hover at the opposite end of the room close to the entry door, and she instinctively knows that her sister will be ready to go home - it is pretty late, after all - and so she begins to shrug her arms out of the jacket as Ryder waves over towards the blonde. 

“Hey, I mean it - don’t worry about it,” Kristoff tells her, and Anna stills at his words. “You can give it back to me on Thursday, right?” 

“Are you sure?” she asks him - doing her best to keep her voice even - and he nods his head once. “Alright, then,” she says as she tucks some of her hair behind her ear, “I guess I’ll see you on Thursday.” 

He hums in agreement as Ryder returns by his side, and Kristoff’s dark eyes flicker over her full length once more. His gaze lingers on the dark jacket and the way in which it hangs on her small frame, and in the bright light of the room, Anna notes the way in which the tops of his cheeks begin to turn pink. 

“Yeah,” he confirms, “see you Thursday.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this chapter was originally supposed to be one, but it ended up super long so I split it into two (:

Anna spends far too much of the week stuck in her head, and she’s grateful for the fact that nobody in the office seems to pick up on the fact that she’s zoning out an awful lot more than she usually does. She can’t help it, though; and she finds herself flushing at the memory of his lips hovering over her own, of his hot breath fanning over her face and his calloused thumbs brushing over the backs of her hands; and Anna likes Ryder, she _does,_ but it’s been _days_ and she’s still cursing him for his poor timing. 

“So,” Elsa asks, her eyes dancing between Anna’s and the dark jacket that she’s holding in one of her hands, “are you excited to see him this week?” 

Anna makes a point of huffing as she deposits her car keys into her bag, and she frowns as she follows Elsa across the lot, towards the gym. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, her tone as casual as she can make it; though she knows that the blonde is _very_ aware of that fact that she’s lying through her teeth - after all, Anna couldn’t help but gush to her sister about her almost-kiss with Kristoff. “ _You,_ on the other hand -”

“Don’t even go there,” Elsa interrupts, though she’s grinning now, and Anna laughs heartily as they make their way inside the building. 

It’s nice, she thinks - being able to bond and giggle about their crushes with one another. It took a long time for Elsa to get to a place where she was comfortable enough opening up to Anna about general things, never mind her romantic life; and the redhead thinks that it’s even sweeter how they’re both in similar positions.

It only takes a minute for the two of them to make their way up the stairs to the first floor and head into their usual studio rooms, and Anna offers her sister a wide grin and a thumbs up. Elsa doesn’t need much luck, not really - after all, her and Honey have each other’s numbers and have been communicating regularly throughout the week - but Anna throws her a wink just for good measure before she shoulders the door and heads into the studio to be greeted by -

Not Kristoff. 

“Ryder?” Anna asks, her brows pulling together in confusion, and the brunette looks over at her from where he’s leaning against one of the mirrors. 

He smiles brightly - like this is normal, like she should have been expecting him to be here - and moves to slip his phone into the pocket of his shorts. 

“Hey, Anna,” he says, and she doesn’t mean to be rude, she really doesn’t; but she frowns deeply from where she’s standing in the doorway, practically frozen to the spot. 

“Erm - is everything okay?” she asks, and she finds herself absent-mindedly running one of her thumbs back and forth over the jacket in her hands, but Ryder’s smile doesn’t so much as falter at her question. 

“Of course,” he says, “you’re working with me today. Hope you don’t mind!”

Anna doesn’t know what she’s supposed to say to that, really; doesn’t know how she’s supposed to turn around and tell him that _actually_ , she would much rather have more one-to-one training with the tall, handsome, and awkward-but-sweet PT who she almost kissed on Saturday night -

correction _,_ who almost kissed _her_ on Saturday night 

\- and so she smiles and nods her head. 

“Of course,” she tells him, “that’s - that’ll be great.”

She doesn’t want to be too disheartened by the lack of him - after all, Kristoff had mentioned to her before how it wouldn’t always be him training her - but since she started private lessons all those weeks before, it always _has_ been him. He had told her that he would be here today, too; and as she places the jacket and her duffle bag down onto the gym floor, Anna finds herself growing irritated at his absence rather than upset. 

If he thinks that he’s made a mistake, if he’s embarrassed or ashamed or fully mortified about the fact that he almost kissed her that night, then he certainly doesn’t need to hide. She might have a crush, but she’s hardly in love with him, and if he doesn’t feel the same way towards her, then that’s _fine;_ but whilst she scolds herself for assuming that he’s running scared, somehow, she seems to instinctively know that he is - can near enough feel it - and so she straightens her shoulders as she approaches Ryder and juts out her chin defiantly, an idea forming in her mind. 

“You know,” she tells him, “if I’m honest, I’m kind of disappointed that it’s you.”

His face falls immediately at her words, and her cheeks burn as panic courses through her. _Shit,_ that’s not how she meant to say it; but she’s never been very good at this, never been awfully conniving or scheming, and she clears her throat and attempts to continue as smoothly as possible despite the fact that her face is burning a shade that she’s certain rivals her own hair. 

“Not that I don’t want to work with you!” she hurries out. “It’s just that Kristoff had promised me that we would work on something in particular this week, and I had _really_ been looking forward to it.” 

“Oh,” Ryder says, and he blinks at her for a moment before the smile returns to his face in the way that she had been hoping it would. “Well, I’m sure that whatever it is, I’ll be able to show you.”

“You _would_?” she grins, and she almost feels guilty, but he nods his head eagerly, and nothing about his body language tells her that he thinks she’s being weird, or odd. 

“Of course,” he tells her, “so - what is it?”

.

.

.

Elsa’s eyes dance over to the dark jacket in Anna’s hands, though before the blonde can ask about it, she makes a point of speaking first. 

She’ll tell her, of course - the two of them talk about near enough everything these days - but right now, for the first time since Saturday night, Anna wants to think of anything _but_ Kristoff. 

Admittedly, she feels better after her session with Ryder, but it still wasn’t the _same;_ though it’s certainly helped to confirm one thing in her mind, and now any small, lingering doubts that she may have had about potentially only having a crush on Kristoff because he was her personal trainer are _definitely_ wrong. 

“Tell me _everything,_ ” Anna says, “from start to finish. And I want to hear every little detail, too.”

Despite her enthusiastic tone - and she really does mean it, too; she genuinely wants to hear everything about how her sister and Honeymaren are progressing - Elsa doesn’t seem particularly forthcoming with the details.

“Anna,” she says, “are you sure? Is everything -”

“Nope!” the redhead cuts in firmly as they make their way over towards her car, “I mean it. I want to hear all of it.”

Elsa still doesn’t look particularly convinced as they step into the vehicle, and once Anna tosses the jacket and her bag onto the back seat, she finally lets out a heavy sigh and offers her sister a closed-lip smile. 

“Listen, Elsa, I just - I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay? And I _really_ do want to hear about you and Honey.” 

Elsa regards her carefully for a long, quiet moment - her cool blue eyes scanning over her face - before she relents with a soft sigh, and Anna smiles as she starts up the engine. 

“So,” Elsa begins, “we’re going out again this weekend. For a - a real date, this time”

Anna near enough _shrieks._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anyone who's here for the background elsamaren tag, just a heads up that this chapter is solely Kristanna (:  
> also this is my second update in the hour as the previous chapter was super short, so you may want to quickly skip back to that if you haven't already seen it!

By the time that Thursday rolls around once more, Anna’s feeling a lot less irritated and a lot more excited - especially since Elsa informed her through Honeymaren that Kristoff had been off last week because Ryder had requested a shift-swap as a favour. She never usually makes this much effort for their sessions - it always seems pointless, considering the fact that she ends every one drenched in sweat - but today, she’s trying something new; and she glances down at the pale skin of her thighs that she has on show as a result of the bright pink gym shorts that she’s wearing. 

There’s no Elsa with her today - it’s Honeymaren’s first Thursday off since they started their private lessons, and the blonde was happy to skip the planned session so that they could go for another date - and Anna knows for certain that Kristoff will be here this week. 

He had texted her as much that morning. 

Anna tries not to look too smug when Kristoff’s dark eyes widen dramatically at the sight of her, and she makes a point of swaying her hips as she crosses the room and drops her duffle bag down in its usual spot. Truth be told, she felt a little ridiculous coming up here dressed in shorts rather than her usual dark leggings; but her confidence soars at the way in which his cheeks flush as she walks over towards him, and she raises her arms in order to tighten her ponytail. 

“So,” he says, clearing his throat. “How was last week with Ryder?”

“We had a productive session, actually,” Anna informs him as she crosses her arms over her chest, and Kristoff raises a brow at that.

“Oh, really?” he asks, and she nods firmly. “Alright, then - why don’t you show me what you learned.”

Her heart begins to race a little faster at that, but Anna tries her best to appear completely unphased. He’s baiting her, she’s certain of it - Ryder will have surely updated him about how their lesson went and the things that they covered in it, especially the things that she _requested_ they go over - but she bites all the same. 

“ _Gladly.”_

Despite her confident tone, Anna feels flustered and nervous; and whilst it was easy enough to pull this move off when she was working against Ryder, now that they’re here - with Kristoff standing so close to her - she’s reminded of just how tall and broad and strong he is, and Anna swallows thickly as her eyes flicker over his torso. 

He knows what she’s thinking - the smirk on his face is a dead giveaway - but she clears her throat and straightens her shoulders all the same, refusing to crumble beneath his smug gaze. 

“You have to act like you’re coming for me,” she informs him, “that’s what we were practicing.”

“Like this?” he asks, stepping further towards her, and Anna’s light eyes widen dramatically as he hovers over her, well and truly invading her personal space. 

_Shit,_ this was definitely going to be _much_ more difficult than it was with Ryder - for starters, she doesn’t have to crane her entire neck in order to maintain eye contact with him - but she pushes through anyway. 

“Kind of,” she tells him, “but you - you’re not doing it right. Ryder acted like - well, he moved towards me and then acted like he was going to grab me, too.”

“Sorry, boss,” Kristoff says, though his tone is rather playful, and she narrows her eyes at him as he takes several steps backwards. “Ready?” he asks, and she exhales a quick breath before she gets into position.

“Ready,” she nods. 

He moves quickly towards her, and despite the pounding in her chest - because this is _Kristoff,_ Kristoff who was grumpy at first but is so much softer now, Kristoff who frowned when she was cold and rolled up the sleeves of his jacket for her, Kristoff who almost kissed her two weeks ago - Anna recalls the simple steps that Ryder taught her, and she moves swiftly. 

In a situation like this, she knows that all of her instincts would tell her to back away, to run; but she knows better, now, and instead, Anna takes a step towards him, being careful to quickly place her right leg next to his left.

It’s hard to ensure that she gets it into the right place, since he’s so much taller and larger than she is, but the feel of her bare thigh pressed against his leg appears to momentarily distract him. There’s no real time to think about that, though; and instead, she uses it to her advantage as she reaches up towards his shoulders and shoves him backwards. 

Kristoff could overpower her with ease, she knows, and yet she manages to manipulate him relatively well; and she sweeps her leg around and behind his ankles at the same time that she shoves him, essentially causing him to fall flat onto his ass on the floor with a soft but distinctive _oof._

She can’t quite believe that she managed it, that he went down so easily beneath her palms, though she doesn’t have even a moment to bask in the glory of her success since she finds herself tumbling down with him, too; his hands instinctively moving to find purchase on her hips as she near enough drops straight into his lap, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders in order to steady herself. 

She must have put a little too much force into the shove - it’s the only reasonable explanation for why she ends up following him down to the floor - but _still,_ it doesn’t make any sense. Even if he _was_ a little distracted, then he shouldn’t have been that easy to move, to manipulate - 

But the sight of his dark eyes widening and his cheeks flushing pink along with the realisation that she is literally straddling his lap is enough to take over her mind and push those questions away, and Anna stiffens even as he drops his large hands away from her hips and leans backwards so that he’s resting on his forearms.

She keeps her hands on his shoulders - her palms half-pressed against the material of his wife-beater and half against his bare skin - and the change in position means that Kristoff is near enough stretched out on the floor beneath her. 

Anna’s acutely aware of the fact that they’re in a rather compromising position, but she can’t think, let alone speak; and though she opens and closes her mouth several times in an attempt to say something - to break the ice, to make it decidedly not awkward - she feels her face begin to heat, and the words won’t come, no matter how much she wills them to.

It isn’t as though Kristoff is completely unaffected by the position, and his own cheeks grow darker by the second, too; but Anna suddenly can’t find it within her to meet his gaze, and _god,_ she should really be moving to stand, should really swing her legs round and over his waist and put some distance between the two of them; but as she quickly averts her eyes in a desperate attempt to look anywhere but him, she catches a glimpse of movement out of her peripheral - 

And her breath hitches in her throat as her eyes lock onto their reflection in the mirrored wall.

His head whips round at the sound and he follows her eyes over towards the wall, and Anna watches as the slight confusion that was resting on his face melts into realisation, and his own dark eyes widen at the sight of their reflection, too. 

Anna had wanted to avert his gaze, and yet she finds herself locking eyes with him through the glass.

It feels decidedly more intimate like this, she thinks - to be able to see the full length of his large, broad form pinned beneath her own much smaller body, to be able to fully appreciate just how small her hands are from where they rest on his shoulders; and a shudder courses through her as she watches him raise one of his palms and bring it to rest on her hip. 

Anna turns to face him, then - the contact causing the skin of her legs to prickle - and she swallows thickly as she blinks down at him. He doesn’t meet her gaze immediately - instead, he continues to watch through the mirror - and she drinks in the sight of his side profile whilst she waits. Once again, she finds herself wanting to reach out and touch him; to trail her fingers over the short hairs that line his jaw, to brush the pad of her thumb over his lips, to cup his jaw and bring her lips down to his - 

“Kristoff,” she murmurs, her voice low as he turns and blinks up at her, and she watches his adam’s apple bob as he swallows audibly. 

Her fingers twitch against his skin as she feels herself leaning down towards him, and his hooded eyes flicker to the way in which the hair at the end of her ponytail falls over one of her shoulders before he looks back to her once more. 

Her lips naturally curve up into a small smirk at the way in which his jaw relaxes as she slowly approaches, though the tension between them is so thick that it’s palpable, now; and Anna finds herself so close to him that she can feel his warm breath fanning over her face, that she could count the freckles over the bridge of his nose and beneath his lids if she wanted to, that she can feel his course stubble tickle her skin, and _god,_ if Ryder walks through that door right now, then she’ll floor him, too. 

“Can I -”

“Yes,” he murmurs, his lips ever so slightly brushing against her own as a result of their proximity; and Kristoff leans in and closes the final inch between them in order to meet her lips in a feather-light press. 

Anna’s heart hammers in her chest even as she remains completely still over him, and her lashes flutter against the tops of her cheeks as she pulls her mouth away just a fraction. He exhales a shaky breath, and the sound is enough to cause her to open her eyes to meet with his; and the burning heat that she finds in his lust-blown pupils has her leaning in to kiss him once more.

Both of her hands lift from his broad shoulders to cup his jaw as she slots her mouth against his own - more firmly, this time, more determined - and she relishes in the feel of his stubble tickling her palms in the way that she knew it would. Despite her racing heart, her entire body relaxes into him as he sweeps his tongue against her bottom lip, and she hums happily as Kristoff pushes himself further upright so that he’s bracing his weight on his palm rather than his forearm.

The change in position has her shifting slightly in his lap in a way that makes her feel impossibly closer to him, and Anna can’t help but grin against his mouth when the hand on her hip squeezes somewhat tentatively. She parts her lips and brushes her wet tongue against his, and the low groan that the action elicits from him causes her mischievous grin to widen.

She’s determined to hear that sound again.

Anna shifts in his lap once more, and the light-weight shorts that he’s wearing do very little to conceal the evidence of his excitement, and the noise that Kristoff makes when she rolls her hips experimentally against his own does not disappoint. It’s something between a gasp and a whine that gives her the confidence to repeat the movement again and again and again, and Anna finds herself panting against his mouth as he raises his free hand and brings it to her opposite hip. 

He murmurs her name against her lips as his blunt fingernails dig into the tight material of her own shorts, and Anna’s never heard anyone say her name like _that_ before.

“Can I touch you?” he asks, the words stuttered as he pulls away ever so slightly, and she nods eagerly as she looks down at him through hooded lids.

“I - _yes,_ ” she tells him, “god, Kristoff, _please_.”

Kristoff has always been careful with her when it comes to physical contact. He has always sought permission before he maneuvers her, and he’s always kept his hands where they should be, too. He’s never once over-stepped, never lingered or wandered, and she’s wondered what it would be like if he did, has wanted to know how it would feel it those large, work-worn hands would slide against her skin; and she sighs happily as he squeezes at her hips once more before he snakes them round her back and lowers them. 

Anna finds herself feeling incredibly thankful for the way in which her new-found hobby has toned her body over these last few months as his palms move to press firmly against the curve of her ass, his fingertips brushing against the hem of her bright shorts; and they groan simultaneously when he squeezes her perky flesh. Her hips buck instinctively - pressing her more firmly against the outline of his erection - and she knows that she won’t be satisfied until he’s closer still. 

His name falls from her lips in a whispered plea as she lowers her hands from his cheeks so that they rest on his muscular shoulders once more, and the skin on her arms prickles as he ducks his head and begins to pepper wet kisses along the line of her jaw. Her tied hair sways from around her shoulder so that it falls down her back as she tilts her chin and offers him access to the full expanse of her neck, and her fingernails rake against his golden skin as she moves to bury one of her hands in the fair hairs at his nape.

Anna moans in approval as Kristoff lowers his lips to her neck, and the feel of his stubble brushing across her sensitive skin combined with the sight that she finds as she turns her head over towards the mirror has her gasping sharply. 

He’s completely oblivious to the way in which she greedily drinks in the sight of him through the glass as he continues to kiss and lick and nip at the column of her throat, and Anna doesn’t know where to even _begin_ to look; her light eyes dancing from his face to his tense biceps, from his thick forearms to his large hands, and she watches through hooded lids as he palms at her flesh and worships her skin and -

His lashes flutter open as he drags his parted lip over her throat, and she freezes - her nails digging into the flesh of shoulder - as his eyes lock onto hers.

Anna’s cheeks flush pink at the realisation that he’s well and truly caught her ogling him, and Kristoff stills for a moment, too; but then his fingers twitch against the curve of her ass and his lips curve up in a knowing smirk before he leans forwards and presses a soft, chaste kiss against the centre of her neck. 

“Like what you see?” he murmurs against her skin, keeping his gaze on her through the mirror; and Anna can’t help but narrow her eyes at his teasing. 

“Shut up,” she huffs, and Kristoff chuckles lowly before he cranes his neck - the movement causing the tip of his nose to drag across her skin - and leans forwards, slotting his mouth against her own once more. 

The way in which he kisses her has Anna’s head practically spinning, and she hums in approval as he grips her ass a little tighter and pushes her more firmly against him. She almost can’t believe that she’s here, that this is real; that the grumpy, closed-off man she was convinced she couldn’t stand to be in the same room as for an hour is now pinned beneath her and lifting his hips from the floor in an attempt to meet the way her own buck into him, and Anna giggles softly as he lets out a long, low whine and pulls his wet lips away from her own and moves in close to murmur down her ear. 

“ _Fuck,_ Anna,” he says, his voice all raspy and breathless as she gently rakes her nails against his scalp, “ _shit,_ I need you, I want to - I wanna taste you.”

Well _._

Nobody’s ever said _that_ to her before.

Her cheeks burn deeply at his confession, but Anna doesn’t hesitate to nod her head up and down in eager confirmation, though she’s a little taken aback when he presses a quick kiss to her lips before he lowers himself down so that he’s lay against the wooden floor. Despite her initial confusion, she instinctively moves to spread her legs further apart as Kristoff shuffles beneath her so that she’s straddling his chest rather than his hips, and her light eyes widen in realisation as his hands come to rest on her thighs.

Anna knows that it can’t be the most flattering angle of herself, and yet he looks up at her with blown-out pupils as though she’s the most glorious thing he’s ever seen in his life, and she can’t help but squirm a little beneath his intense gaze. His palms squeeze at the bare skin of her thighs before he moves one of his hands over towards her centre, and Anna’s legs tremble in anticipation as Kristoff slowly hooks his fingers into the material of her shorts and her panties and pulls them over towards the side. 

She shudders violently from where she towers above him, and Kristoff offers her one final knowing look before he shimmines himself down even further beneath her, his face disappearing between her thighs until all that she’s left with is the view of his mop of fair hair. 

Anna swallows thickly at the sound of his hissed curse, and she inhales a sharp breath at the sudden feel of one of his thick fingers coating itself in the slick evidence of her arousal. Her lashes flushes to a close at the feel of his hot breath dancing over her slit, and she’s never wanted anyone like this before, can’t ever recall being worked up to the point where it feels as though she’s already teetering on the edge of release before he’s done much of anything; and her hands lower between her legs and fist into his hair as he finally runs his tongue along the entire length of her.

Kristoff kisses her slit the same way in which he kissed her mouth just moments earlier, and Anna whimpers softly as he eagerly laps at her centre. Her hands fist tighter into his hair as he points his tongue and flicks it over her clit, and she gasps sharply as he moans beneath her. 

Her hips buck instinctively as he focuses on her sensitive bundle of nerves, and she’s conscious of the fact that she doesn’t exactly want to smother him, yet it’s hard not to grind herself against his mouth, especially when he purses his lips and sucks gently on her clit. Anna’s thighs tremble violently as his name falls from her tongue in panted breaths, and she groans loudly as she opens her eyes over towards the mirror and watches. 

There’s not an awful lot of him for her to see, of course, but there’s certainly enough; and she’s always been a little self-conscious when it comes to her body - has never really liked her small breasts or skinny arms, didn’t see much beauty in her freckled shoulders or her thin legs - but she’s never seen herself like _this_ before, either; and before, she was too embarrassed to look, but now she doesn’t want to look away.

“Shit,” she whispers, her eyelids drooping as her abdomen clenches tightly; and Kristoff’s tongue circles over her clit again and again and again as heat pulses through her trembling body. “Shit, shit, _shit,_ Kristoff, I’m -”

She’s incoherent, she knows - babbling and gasping desperately as he licks and sucks enthusiastically - and Anna’s eyes squeeze tightly to a close as she rolls her hips once more. She’s close, so close; and she tells him as much as she tugs on his hair, pulling him impossibly closer towards her, and she lets out a long, loud cry when he wraps his lips around her clit once more and sucks.

Delicious warmth courses through her as he finally works her to release, and Anna’s entire body relaxes above him as she comes with a wrangled sob of relief. She tucks her chin into her chest as she attempts to steady her laboured breaths, her eyes remaining tightly closed even as she registers the fact that Kristoff has shuffled from between her thighs.

When she finally blinks her light eyes open, she finds that he’s returned to his original position - still beneath her, but resting on his palms so that his face is much closer to her own - and she lets out a contented sigh as he raises one of his hands to her face. Utterly euphoric - her toes still curled and her abdomen still clenching randomly with the light aftershocks of her orgasm - Anna leans into his palm, her lips curving into a soft smile as his thumb brushes over her cheekbone. 

He whispers her name - his voice softer than she’s ever heard it before - and despite the fact that his chin still glistens, she leans in towards him and closes the distance between them once more. This time their kiss is slower, lazier; and whilst heat and desire still stirs within her core at the unfamiliar taste of herself on his lips, for now, Anna relishes in the gentle stroke of his tongue over hers. 

It doesn’t take long for their kiss to grow passionate once again, though; and the sound of Kristoff groaning as she sucks on his bottom lip has Anna wanting more, and before she can overthink it, she snakes her hand between their bodies and brushes her fingernails over the waistband of his shorts. 

She giggles at the way in which his abdomen sucks in as he inhales a quick breath, and Anna bites down on her bottom lip as Kristoff raises his hips into the air so that she can tug the dark shorts down his thighs. His eyes flutter to a close as she immediately wraps her hand around the exposed length of his cock, and Anna can’t help but feel at least a little proud of the way in which his lips part and his eyes squeeze tightly to a close when she pumps her hand up and down his length. 

Encouraged by his laboured breaths, Anna continues with her ministrations; but it’s only a few seconds later that Kristoff’s hand moves to wrap around her own - effectively halting her - and his dark eyes blink open into her own. His breath is raspy as he speaks, and Anna’s never heard anything like it before.

“Anna, you’ve got to stop,” he tells her. “If you -” he hisses as her thumb brushes against the weeping head of his cock before she moves her hand away from him, “ _fuck,_ if you want this to last, then you’ve got to stop.”

“ _Oh,_ ” she breathes, her eyes widening in understanding, but she’s way too far gone to be embarrassed about how much she wants him, and so she leans forwards and presses an eager kiss to his mouth as she hooks her fingers into her shorts once more - mimicking the way in which he easily moved them to one side shortly before - and crawls up his lap so that she can line him up at her entrance. 

He briefly pulls away from her and scans over her face, his mouth opening and closing several times before he finds his voice.

“Do you -”

“Pill,” she interrupts, instinctively knowing what it was that he was going to ask; and Kristoff nods his head at that before he places his hands on either side of her hips and grips tightly. 

They moan simultaneously as she sinks herself down onto his length, and Anna’s hands move in order to bury into his mussed hair once again. She pauses in order to adjust to his size as his lips ghost over her jaw, and Anna relishes in the groan that escapes him as she rocks her hips experimentally against his own. 

“You like that?” she asks him as she repeats the action, and she can’t help but grin at the way in which Kristoff’s hands squeeze tighter around her hips.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he hisses in response, and she giggles mischeviously as she begins to slide herself up and down the length of his cock, her thighs burning in the most delicious of ways as she bounces herself lightly on him. 

For what it’s worth, Kristoff uses his tight grip on her hips in order to assist with her movements, and Anna’s light eyes flutter open in order to watch him as she repeatedly sinks down onto his cock. She won’t find release again now, she’s certain; but that doesn’t mean that she can’t enjoy the sight of him panting and whining beneath her, and she bites down on her bottom lip as she pushes through the mild ache in her burning thighs and increases the pace of her thrusts. 

She can’t resist the urge to glance over at their reflection in the mirror, and she moans happily at the sight, her lips curving up into a wicked grin as she watches herself bounce on top of his cock. Anna’s hands move away from Kristoff’s mussed hair in order to squeeze at his muscular shoulders, and she laughs almost deliriously when his eyes fling open and connect with hers in the glass.

She doesn’t miss the way in which his thick fingers tighten against her hips or the way in which his jaw relaxes even further as he watches her ride him, and Anna cocks a brow at their reflection as her rhythm falters ever so slightly. 

“Like what you see?” she breathes, repeating his earlier words, and he lets out a chuckle that quickly rolls into a guttural moan as she circles her hips. 

Anna notes the way in which his thighs tremble beneath her at that, and so she repeats the motion once more. This time, his eyes fall to a tight close; and so she circles her hips again and again, her grin widening at their reflection as he leans backwards and angles his hips in order to thrust himself into her. 

He’s close, she can tell by the way in which his jaw clenches and his blunt fingernails dig tightly into the material of her gym shorts, and Anna gasps loudly at the slight change in position before she fists her hands into the collar of his shirt and closes the distance between them in a desperate kiss. Kristoff licks into her mouth with equal enthusiasm, and his breath hitches before he empties himself inside of her with a long, low moan. 

His face falls forwards and buries into the crook of her neck, and Anna raises one of her hands to the back of his head so that she can gently drag her fingernails over his scalp, and she smiles softly as she moves to lean her cheek against the side of his head. 

As their breathing slowly but surely returns to normal, Anna’s eyes widen and immediately flicker over towards the clock that hangs on the wall above the door. She lets out a quick breath of relief when she notes that they haven’t quite made use of the full hour yet, and so she relaxes further against him, a soft smile curving onto her face at the image they make in the glass.

He’s completely relaxed around her - his hands resting loosely on her waist, his face still buried in the crook of her neck - and she can’t help but grin at the mirror when he shudders at the feel of her fingernails brushing a little more firmly over his scalp. 

She’s not so sure where this will leave them, now; and Anna’s never had a one-time thing in her life and she certainly doesn’t want this to be, either, but she thinks that those kinds of conversations can wait just a little while longer.

For now, she just wants to catch her breath.


End file.
